IMITATED FROM THE PERSIAN. WOULD my love, I could give thee a beautiful bird, To hover around thee and come at thy word; With plumage all gorgeous in violet and gold, And form that would tell of a heavenly mould. With warblings of Paradise silvery bright, To lull thy soft slumbers all through the long night, To fondle around thee with playful caress, And drop precious pearls 'midst each dark silken tress. Alas! I command not an offering so rare, G. HALEY. M THE ANDALUSIAN MAID. FROM THE SPANISH. I LOVE, when the summer sun hath set, To shade, yet shew, the lovely face I love to rest by the orange tree, Which nestles to rest on the bosom true Of the Andalusian Maid. I love, when the glare of day has gone, To watch the evening star, When borne on the breeze the strain comes on From some distant light guitar; And who that hath stood on the martial plain, J. D. ROWNEY. TO A LADY BLUSHING. THE lilies faintly to the roses yield, As on thy lovely cheek they struggling vie; Who would not strive upon so sweet a field To win the mastery? And thoughts are in thy speaking eyes revealed, Pure as the fount the prophet's rod unsealed. I could not wish that in thy bosom aught Should e'er one moment's transient pain awaken, Yet can't regret that thou-forgive the thought-As flowers when shaken Will yield their sweetest fragrance to the wind, Should, ruffled thus, betray thy heavenly mind. HOFFMAN. TO CASTARA. We saw and woo'd each other's eyes; By which our marriage grew divine. Let wilder youth, whose soul is sense, Profane the shrine where virtue reigns, And purchase endless penitence, Galled by the thorns of pleasure's chains. Time's ever ours, while we despise Whose light no jealous clouds obscure, The troubled stream is still impure: And though opinion often err, We'll court the modest smile of fame; For sin's black danger circles her, Who hath infection in her name. Thus when to one dark silent room W. HABINGTON. THE FAREWELL. THE Conflict is over, the struggle is past, I have look'd-I have loved-I have worshipp'd my last, And now back to the world, and let Fate do her worst On the heart that for thee such devotion hath nursed; To thee its best feelings were trusted away. Yet not in resentment thy love I resign; I blame not-upbraid not—one motive of thine, I ask not what change has come over thy heart; I reck not what changes have doom'd us to part; I but know thou hast told me to love thee no more, And I still must obey where I once did adore. |